


Very Well Acquainted

by Comicbooklovergreen



Series: More than One Kind of Soulmate [5]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Carol (2015), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: 50's Couples and trios, Crossover, F/F, Found Familes, Multi, OT3, Polyamory, Stegginelli
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-02 17:47:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10949592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comicbooklovergreen/pseuds/Comicbooklovergreen
Summary: Steve has a chance meeting with Harge. Steve does not like bullies and considers Harge the worst possible kind. Things get very out of hand very quickly.Two unconventional families form an unbreakable bond. Tracing a friendship and a family through the years.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know I said this would be a oneshot but, twoshot. Because it's me, you should never listen to anything I say. But you should leave comments/kudos, because those things seriously keep me writing.

Rindy was well and truly bored. Her new white shoes pinched a little when she walked, though she wasn’t getting much chance for that anyway. The house had a large lawn with other kids scattered about collecting eggs, but Rindy wasn’t allowed. Her grandmother would be angry if her dress and gloves came back dirty.

She didn’t understand why she was here. It was Easter and Easter was always on Sunday and Sundays were Mommy and Aunt Therese days. But Daddy had talked to Mommy and Rindy was here now and wouldn’t see Mommy until next weekend. It made Rindy sad even if Mommy had promised to color eggs with her and talk to the Easter Bunny so she’d get her basket next week.

Daddy said this was the mayor’s house, not that Rindy particularly cared. It was a big house she wasn’t allowed to explore filled with things she wasn’t allowed to touch. The grownups were talking about boring things and Daddy wouldn’t let her play with the other kids. She was to stay close to him and smile and be polite when he introduced her to other grownups.

It was boring.

There was a table of finger foods nearby on the patio. Most of them looked gross but there was also a dessert tray. Rindy glanced over her shoulder. Daddy was facing away from her talking to a man about Russia and the stock market. More certain than ever about which direction held appeal, Rindy waded carefully through the crowds of ladies in their summer dresses and men in their vests and shined shoes.

She’d almost made it to the table when she noticed him, a familiar figure amidst all the strangers. She squinted to make sure but yes. Ignoring the pinch of her shoes and the need for stealth, Rindy ran towards him.

“Uncle Steve!”

* * *

 

Steve turned from his conversation, had just enough time to switch his mimosa from one hand to the other before the little girl reached him. He lifted Rindy with one arm, her legs dangling against his Khaki-clad waist. “Hey Rindy! What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know,” Rindy said on a giggle, small arms encircling his neck. “Daddy brought me.”

“He did? Are you having fun?”

“No,” Rindy said giggling again.

“Rindy!”

Steve turned his head toward the dark-haired man with the sharp voice.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing bothering that man?”

“He’s not a man, Daddy, he’s Uncle Steve.”

Steve would chuckle to himself about that later when he wasn’t sizing the other man up. “This your daddy, Rindy?”

“Uh-huh,” Rindy nodded, studying the crowd and the children in the grass with renewed interest. “Uncle Steve, where’s Lizzie?”

“Lizzie’s at her Nonna’s house for Easter with Aunt Peggy and Aunt Angie. Stuck with just me today, kiddo.”

“I’m sorry,” Harge said. “You have me at a disadvantage, Mr…?”

“Captain. Captain Steve Rogers.”

Usually Steve found it ridiculous when the mere mention of his name brought stuttering and straightened backs and general panic in grown men. Harge was an exception and Steve enjoyed watching the spectacle of realization.

“I…Captain Rogers.”

“Mr. Aird.” Steve set his drink down to shake Harge’s hand, checking his grip just a bit less than he should. “Happy Easter.”

“You…you too.” Harge shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m just having a hard time understanding how my daughter knows Captain America.”

Steve laughed, bouncing Rindy on his hip to make her do the same. “Well, she knows me as Uncle Steve, her friend’s daddy and her mommy’s friend, but yeah, you could say she knows Captain America. She prefers Peter Pan to me though.”

 “Peter Pan?”

“Aunt Angie is Peter Pan, Daddy, she flies and everything, and she made me and Lizzie her Lost Girls.”

“Angela Martin,” Steve said. “My daughter’s mother is an actress.”

“Aunt Angie…”

Harge spoke mostly to himself, Steve thought. Steve watched the gears turning and grinding against each other in his mind. He imagined Rindy mentioning his family to Harge, though she’d obviously left out some details. All the better.

“Aunt Peggy can’t fly,” Rindy said, “but she’s got a funny accent and a pretty red hat and she plays dress-up with us sometimes.”

“Peggy Carter. My fiancé,” Steve said before Harge could ask. He was eager to watch the reaction to that one.

He let Harge flounder a few seconds before giving an abbreviated version of the public story. He and Peggy had been fond of each other during the war, but she’d found someone while he was under the ice. He’d met Angie during that period and Lizzie was born. Peggy’s relationship with this other person had ended and she and Steve realized they needed to make a go of it. Angie and Lizzie were dear to both of them, so the four shared a home.

“Can’t let complications between the parents hurt the children, right?”

He watched Harge squirm. By Carol’s own account she’d been far from innocent in the whole mess but Steve knew enough about weapons to realize that a child should never become one, especially against her mother

And maybe he was needling Harge as a way of making himself feel better after that awful fight with Carol. Surely there were worse things.

“Fiancé, that’s, congratulations. When’s the wedding?”

Steve waved off Harge’s question. “Soon enough, we’re still settling on a date.”

There was no date, no ring, there were no plans at all. Neither he nor Peggy wanted to have a marriage without Angie, it would be incomplete. But the public loved the notion of Betty Carver and the good Captain getting their happily ever after, so a very long engagement would have to suffice.

“Speaking of weddings,” Steve said, “shouldn’t you be at one?”

Harge pulled at his shirt collar. “Sorry?”

“Carol said you had a family wedding, that’s why Rindy’s visitation got switched.”

Steve had no desire to be here, but there were important people he apparently _had_ to be seen mingling with. Rindy though was clearly a prop in service of whatever connections Harge hoped to make here. The image of the devoted father never hurt.

“There must’ve been a misunderstanding,” Harge said, the perfect posture he’d adapted when Steve arrived failing him.

“I’m sure that’s all it was.”

“Excuse me, Captain…how exactly do you know my wife?”

“Wife…? Oh, you mean Carol,” Steve said, playing dumb. As he understood, it’d been over two years since Carol was Harge’s wife. “We go back a ways,” Steve picked up his drink again, sipped it with Rindy still clinging.

“Do you,” Harge said looking pale in the spring sun.

“Sure. We’re very well acquainted. She gave me one of the more memorable welcome home’s I’ve ever received.”

He’d known Carol less than a year and the welcome in question involved a vicious exchange of words and a slap to the face. None of which he was technically lying about.

It was low, he knew, but he was bored and missing Easter with his family and so was Rindy.

Also, he didn’t like bullies, and if using Rindy as blackmail didn’t qualify as bullying…

By then the people nearest them had caught on to something interesting. They asked how he and Harge knew each other and Steve made it pleasantly clear that it was Rindy’s mother he knew, owner of the best furniture place in town.

Steve wouldn’t say he stole Harge’s child, merely offered to entertain her so Harge could go about his business without worry. Not that anyone was particularly interested in talking business with Harge anymore, not when they could watch Captain America help a little girl spot Easter eggs.

And Harge, whom Steve heard liked to yell and threaten and carry on until he reminded Carol who was in charge, could say nothing. It worked out quite well.

Steve might have thought differently had he seen the man tucked in amongst the other guests, scribbling frantically on a notepad.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to thank everyone for all your kudos/comments. Not just on this story, but the entire series. They mean so much, especially on a fic like this that isn't necessarily going to have mass appeal. I look forward to hearing your thought on this chapter. You're the reason this series continues :) :)

 

Steve was quite used to seeing his name in the paper by now. But the headlines were typically much more flattering.

**His Girl Friday…Saturday and Sunday Too! Captain America’s Secret Life!**

“Shit,” Steve said as he stared at the glaring _New York Post_ headline.

“Language,” Peggy chided, pouring herself a cup of tea at the counter. “Very accurate language.”

“We really can’t send you anywhere, can we?” Angie asked as she cut up Lizzie’s pancakes.

“I didn’t think…”

“Did you learn nothing from the compass incident?” Peggy asked. “Flashing my picture over a thousand screens across the country?”

“That wasn’t an incident, English. _This_ is an incident.”

“It’s a bloody fiasco,” Peggy said calmly, sipping her tea while organizing her briefcase. “Have a grand time cleaning it up.”

“Peggy,” Steve said, pleading with her.

“No. I’m far too pregnant to be handling your messes.”

Angie scoffed, rolled her eyes at Peggy’s flat stomach. “You’re not even showing yet. That’s way too much potential stupid for you to saddle me with already, knocked up or not.”

“Ange,” Steve whined, though he knew he had very little room here to be affronted.

“What? God, Steve. I know you want more kids but I drew short straw last time and Peggy’s already working on it. You have one illegitimate child as is, you can’t just start pointing them out and going ‘that one’s mine.’” Angie paused. “At least not when she belongs to one of our friends.”

“I wasn’t trying to…how was I supposed to know there was a reporter?”

“Best to assume there’s always a reporter,” Peggy said, sipping her tea again.

Angie hummed agreement.

“I was just trying to annoy him!” Steve protested.

 “You weren’t just annoying him, you were having a,” Peggy looked sideways at Lizzie getting syrup all over herself, “C-O-C-K measuring contest and not thinking about who’d hear you.”

“At the table English, really?” Angie asked as if she hadn’t said that and worse a thousand times.

“He’s the C-O-C-K, Peggy, I was just making conversation.”

‘It was a childish P-I-S-S-I-N-G competition to make yourself feel better. Did you win, or do you think Carol will cease contact again?”

“Technically we all ceased contact last time,” Steve mumbled.

“I doubt that’ll stop Carol from viewing you as an idiotic W-A-N-K-E-R who’s only managed to further complicate her situation,” Peggy said.  “You’ve certainly managed to cock it up this time, haven’t you love?”

“You didn’t spell that one,” he pointed out.

“That one wasn’t used in the same context.”

“God, I can’t believe little girls are meant to be lookin at you as a role model. If our kid starts spelling that C-R-A-P at school you’re both in trouble,” Angie said mildly, handing Lizzie a napkin.

“Mommy and Daddy sitting in a tree,” Lizzie sang suddenly, mouth half full. “P-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

Peggy sighed, Angie gave him a look and Steve hid behind his newspaper. He would not be having anything close to a good day.

* * *

 

“This is the best day of my life!”

Carol glared and waved Abby silent as she gripped the phone. “Of course it’s not true. No, Harge. Harge, I…I know what he said, but it’s not…it wasn’t that kind of welcome home, Harge.”

Therese chuckled and shared a look with Abby, then clamped her mouth shut as Carol’s scowl was leveled at her. She decided to be proactive and went to fix Carol something from the makeshift bar in the living room. Abby remained on their sofa, grinning madly at the paper.

“If you must know…shut up, Harge! You want the truth? I hit him in the face and called him a terrible father.” Carol rolled her eyes. “Yes, that does sound more like me, doesn’t it?”

Therese did her best to remain stoic as Carol finished off the conversation. She’d barely topped off the drink before Carol snatched it from her hand and downed half.

“Christ,” Carol fumed. “What in the hell was he thinking?”

“I did mention to Angie about that new outfit I wanted, maybe she mentioned it to him,” Abby said.

Carol stared.

“What, were you not there today, did you not see all the customers?”

“They were there to gawk at Captain America’s mistress, Abby, not buy furniture.”

“And yet I made five sales before noon. Every piece is a winner when Captain America conceived his first child on it.”

“Abby!”

“What?” Abby shrugged, glanced at the paper again and grinned impossibly wider. “He did say we had the best furniture in town. And all that stuff about polishing your tables for you…”

“He did polish tables for me,” Carol said flatly.

“Yes, he really did A woman in Poughkeepsie thinks he polished your tables after having you on that hideous oak thing you insisted on grabbing in Boston. Months I try to unload that monstrosity and all it took was this.”

Carol swore and Therese carefully led her to the chair opposite Abby.

Abby cleared her throat and read a section of the article again. “While we stood there, a little girl came running from the games. An adorable child in a pressed pink Easter dress, dainty matching gloves, and polished white shoes, a contrast to the rolling green lawns. She called him 'Uncle Steve' and reached for him. As we all watched in surprise, Captain Rogers lifted her into his arms and hugged her close, greeting her by name and asking if she was having fun.”

She mumbled and sped through anything she deemed less than interesting at the moment, though the last hour proved that she would reread every word soon enough. Carol continued to glare in a way that still terrified Therese after two years but seemed to have no effect whatsoever on Abby.

“Captain Rogers remarked with a twinkle in his eye and fondness radiating off of him that she ‘gave me one of the more memorable welcome home’s I’ve ever received’ as he held the little girl close.”

Carol knocked back the rest of her drink as Abby folded the paper. “Congratulations, your reading level has improved slightly since we were in fourth grade. Shall I call and report that to the _Post_ as well?”

“He called Rindy adorable, gave us free advertising, and you made Steve radiate with fondness. Last time he radiated anything was probably the actual radiation from that science fair experiment. I’ve never made anyone radiate.”

“The whole world thinks I fucked Captain America!”

“Honey,” Abby leaned forward as if to impart some great knowledge, “you’re a divorced lesbian. An illegitimate child with any man, let alone Steve can only help you at this point.”

Carol huffed as she sank back into the sofa.

“Honestly, the one who should be upset here? Therese?”

Therese frowned at Abby from where she’d perched herself on the arm of Carol’s chair. “Me?”

“You’re always saying what a beast your editor is. He must be on the warpath, getting scooped by the competition when his own employee is shacked up with the subject.”

Therese had added two olives to Carol’s drink, a small attempt at comfort. Carol flicked one of them toward Abby’s face.

“He’s not pleased,” Therese said carefully, “but he doesn’t have reason to be more not-pleased with me than anyone else.”

It was Abby’s turn to frown. “Isn’t Carol on your file somewhere, as a contact or something?”

Therese shrugged. “Of course.”

“And he doesn’t know that, no one does?”

Therese shrugged again. “I guess not.”

“You’ve worked there three years,” Abby stated needlessly, “and no one knows who your roommate is?”

“Dannie does,” Therese said, shifting on her perch, “of course he does, but he’d never say anything.”

“And the others?”

Therese fought another shrug, took Carol’s hand. “As long as my pictures are decent, no reason for me to be seen, really. You know how it is.”

Abby muttered something about ungrateful lunkheads. Carol squeezed Therese’s hand, brought it between hers. “I see you,” she said, firm, earnest. “Those blind idiots will too, soon. You won’t give them a choice.”

Therese smiled, ducked her head from the intensity of Carol’s gaze, her pride. “It’s for the best though, honestly. Like Abby said, if they knew who I was right now…”

Carol sighed. “I suppose. We don’t need another log tossed onto the fire.”

“I still say you’re overreacting,” Abby told her. “Sales are up, Harge is having a stroke, and if he gets too intolerable you have the fuel now to get Rindy back.”

Carol waved that off. “He’s her father, Abby, much as you’d like to change that, and Rindy loves him. You know I’d never do that.”

“I know, I know. But if he can play dirty then—”

“Is it not dirty enough that the world thinks I committed adultery with Captain America?”

“Well you didn’t commit adultery with Captain America.’ Abby paused. “You _did_ commit adultery. Twice. Just not with him, so—”

Carol threw the other olive from her drink.  

* * *

 

“God, why couldn’t he have stayed in the ice a few months longer?”

Angie snorted and handed Carol her coffee.

Carol closed her eyes, realizing too late what she’d said and the slight insensitivity involved. “Sorry, I—”

“I get it, I really do,” Angie said, leaning on the counter next to Carol. 

Carol released a frustrated breath. “Just, the dates, if there’d been just a little more time…”

“I get it,” Angie said again. “But it probably wouldn’t matter. Story like this they’d just say you were fudgin the dates. Better not to say anything at all.”

“Really, no statement, no rebuttal?”

“Peg can put somethin out if you like, say the _Post_ guy messed up the whole thing—”

“Which he did.”

“—but I’d say less is more.”

“Really?” Carol asked again.

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks. It’s like quicksand, the more you struggle, the more it pulls you in.” Angie took a sip of her coffee. “You know I lost out playin Lady Gert in Shakespeare? And I did damn good with that protest line. They said no one’d buy me as queen of Denmark, you believe that?”

“Fools, every one,” Carol said, smiling in spite of herself.

They were interrupted by Steve passing through the kitchen with a screaming Lizzie thrown over his shoulder like a curly-haired sack of potatoes.

“You wouldn’t’ve gotten to fly as queen of Denmark, and I bet that director doesn’t have a Tony on his nightstand,” Steve said.

“Nice, Soldier, but it ain’t me you gotta flatter.”

Steve flashed Carol a sheepish look, started to apologize for the tenth time when Lizzie yelled particularly loudly, hitting his shoulder. She faced away from Carol and Angie, beating at Steve’s back.

“For God’s sake kid,” Angie said. “You’re not allergic to bathwater so quit tryin to break the sound barrier when we have guests.”

Lizzie twisted against Steve, craning her neck. “Auntie!” she cried, grinning rather than screaming. “When did you come?”

“Not long ago. Daddy finally catch you?” Carol asked.

“Yes,” Lizzie said on a giggle. “Save me, save me, Auntie!”

“Oh blue eyes,” Angie said, “you’re not the one who needs saving around here, trust me.”

Carol tried to look very severe. Steve wilted a bit, which was quite amusing for a man of his size, then shifted Lizzie so she was held out in his arms, legs dangling as she faced Carol.

“Auntie!” Lizzie repeated, grabbing for Carol.

“Nope, you stay with Daddy,” Steve said, letting Lizzie grasp at Carol without releasing her.

Angie snorted again. “My guy the big American hero. When he doesn’t have a shield he makes one, out of his own child.”

Carol kissed Lizzie’s head, tickling her a bit. “No shields needed, Steve.” She’d decided it was best to laugh about this. Try to anyway. That Angie seemed to have spiked her coffee with something didn’t hurt.

“I really was just trying to annoy him,” Steve said.

“Oh you annoyed him,” Carol said. “More than Abby ever has, and she’s turned it into quite the passion. When she forgets to be so amused by this it’ll be her you need shielding from.”

“I’ll remember that,” Steve replied, adjusting his grip on Lizzie. “In the meantime…”

“No!” Lizzie whined, making the word stretch as Steve moved to leave and she clung to Carol like a monkey.

“I’ll see you later, sweetheart,” Carol called as Steve walked out of the room with her. It was impossible not to be warmed. Harge loved Rindy, she’d never contested that, he even doted on her as a baby, but he’d never interacted with Rindy the way Steve did with Lizzie.

“Yeah, he’s a good dad, isn’t he?” Angie asked as if reading Carol’s thoughts. “And pretty. Almost makes you forget that he’s pretty dumb too.”

Carol laughed, choked a little on her coffee.

“Seriously.” Angie said once Carol could breathe and her throat had stopped burning. “Much as I’d steal your child in a heartbeat—”

“Thank you,” Carol said flatly.

“—and much as I love the bond we now have as America’s Mistresses—”

“Who’s calling us that? Are people actually calling us that?”

“—this will blow over. The heartless press vultures will find a bigger story to pick at. Not including Therese, obviously because she’s a sweetheart, not a vulture and I’d steal her from you too. Or at least borrow her.”

“Bigger than this, you think?” Carol asked, not bothering to hide her skepticism. “And how long before they find something big enough to top this?”

Angie shrugged. “I got a feeling it’ll happen sooner rather than later.”

* * *

 

Therese covered up a yawn as she went to their door. It was far too early for visitors and she blinked away sleep while fumbling to tie her robe.

By the time she got there whoever had been rude enough to knock at this hour was long gone. Their hallway was not empty though.

“Carol,” she called, staring at what was left on their threshold, “I’ll need some help with this.”

“Help with what?” Carol asked, beautifully disheveled and slipping her own robe on over her nightgown. “Oh…”

Rindy had been asking for a pony lately. Therese wouldn’t put it past her grandparents to provide one, but Rindy wasn’t keen on the animal being stabled somewhere. She wanted a horse here, in their apartment. Despite several attempts by Howard to convince them how easy it would be for him to deliver a miniature horse (“no worse than a puppy”), Carol had refused. Someone else had dropped a beautifully crafted rocking horse on their doorstep. It was large and sturdy looking, hand painted. Tied to the seat was a copy of the morning paper and a small note.

“Love, the wrongfully accused,” Therese read.

“Oh God,” Carol muttered, running her hand along the side of the wood.

They carried it in together, leaving it in the living room for now, though Therese planned on getting a photo when Rindy showed up in a few days and found it waiting in her room. Her musings were interrupted by the sound of newspaper crinkling.

“What has he done now?” Carol asked, sitting down at the table.

“What makes you think he’s done anything?”

“Bribery. He’s done something.”

“What more could he possibly do?”

“That is what I’m trying to find out,” Carol said, squinting at the front page without her reading glasses.

Therese was crossing the distance between them when she heard Carol swear. A familiar occurrence these days, but this one seemed more about shock than anything else. “What, what’s wrong?”

Carol shook her head., adjusting the second page of the paper as she read. "With two little Betty Carvers already, maybe this time there'll be a Major America! Captain Rogers fiancée, Margaret Carter, is expecting!"

Therese’s mouth dropped a little as she read over Carol’s shoulder. The accompanying photo showed a smiling Steve and Peggy, both in full dress uniform at some ceremony or other. “I thought they were putting this off as long as possible.”

Peggy had said something very specific about men assuming that a woman couldn’t possibly carry a pregnancy and a brain at the same time. She also said they were afraid of pregnancy, but not in the way she preferred men to be afraid of things. Angie said they’d probably announce it when Peggy was crowning.

“They gave them something else to pick at,” Carol murmured, sounding as shocked as Therese felt.

“What?”

Carol shook her head again, kept reading. "Not content with his two privates, Captain Rogers has announced that he's expecting again! Long time fiancée, Margaret Carter, is currently in the early stages, but I'm sure they're already doing what they can to make sure this little one's a Lieutenant."

Therese frowned at the horrible pun. “Is he talking about Lizzie and Rindy being girls, or being illegitimate?”

“I have no idea. Both, probably.”

“Two Betty Carvers,” Therese said. “God, Peggy will love that.”

Carol hummed absently, squinting a bit more as her eyes sped over the page. “Oh God,” she said again.

“What?” Therese asked.

“This reporter greatly looks forward to comparing photos of the new baby to that of their siblings,” Carol read on a groan.

Therese chuckled as Carol put her head in her hands. “We do have that shot of Rindy playing with a Cap bear.”

Carol groaned again and muttered something about talking too much.

Therese kissed her shoulder and tried very hard not to laugh. “I’ll get the coffee.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While things in this series are planned out to a certain extent, I'm always anxious to check out prompts, or just to hear from you guys. Hit me up on Tumblr if you're so inclined. 
> 
> http://cblgblog.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> While things in this series are planned out to a certain extent, I'm always anxious to check out prompts. Hit me up on Tumblr if you're so inclined.
> 
> http://cblgblog.tumblr.com/


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